Above the Blood Moon

Huang Shuangyan lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The room was dark, with only the blood moonlight from outside seeping in through the gaps in the curtains. She was covered with a thin blanket.

I haven't slept well for four or five nights now.

She knew she could have that kind of surgery, the kind that removes or modifies the brain's sleep center and replaces natural sleep with electronic pulses.

Many black market merchants and mercenaries did it, in order to work 24 hours a day and earn more Star Alliance coins.

But she won't do it.

Sleep is one of the few times that truly belong to her.

In her dreams, she could temporarily forget this crazy world, forget those dangerous deals, forget the pain of losing her parents and loved ones...

Thinking of this, Huang Shuangyan gritted her teeth and turned over.

The bomb collar was still around her neck, the metal ring pressed tightly against her skin, the icy touch never fading.

She tried various methods to dismantle it, but none of them worked. The thing was too ingeniously designed; forcibly destroying it would only trigger the detonation program.

So now she has to wear high-necked clothes when she goes out, even if she's sweating profusely.

Once, at the market, my collar accidentally slipped down a little. An old lady next to me saw the collar, screamed in fright, and ran away, shouting, "Madman! Cyber ​​madman!"

Huang Shuangyan was so angry she wanted to curse.

Her gaze shifted to the corner of the room, where a small wooden shelf held two photos of Choklee and Big Yellow.

The photo was covered with gun holes.

"Damn those two bastards deserve to die a horrible death. I should have ripped that bastard's genitals off."

Huang Shuangyan eventually drifted off to sleep. In her dream, she was chasing Qiao Keli and Da Huang all over the street with a large pair of scissors. The scissors gleamed coldly and made a snip-snip sound...

Jockley lay in bed, fast asleep, and had a dream, a very good dream.

In his dream, he returned to Earth, to the street where he lived as a child. There was a breakfast shop at the street corner, run by a plump middle-aged woman who always had a smile on her face. Her tofu pudding was especially delicious.

Salty tofu pudding is drizzled with soy sauce, chili oil, pickled mustard greens, and cilantro, then sprinkled with a handful of crispy fried soybeans. It's so fragrant that Choco wants to swallow his tongue.

He sat in the shop with a large bowl of tofu pudding and two freshly fried dough sticks in front of him.

The fried dough sticks are fried to a golden brown and crispy perfection, making a satisfying crunch when you bite into them, but inside is a soft doughy core. The tofu pudding is smooth and tender, the chili oil is fragrant but not overpowering, and the pickled vegetables are crunchy and refreshing...

He ate with great relish, taking large bites, as if he wanted to wash away all the flavors he had tasted in the Forgotten City over the past three weeks with this bowl of tofu pudding.

Next to me sat Big Yellow. Although Big Yellow in the dream was a bit strange, it was eating steamed buns. Mechanical fingers pinched the plump white meat buns, one bite at a time, its mouth dripping with oil.

Jockley laughed, laughing out loud in his dream, but suddenly his smile froze as an instinctive sense of alertness pierced the depths of his consciousness.

Something is approaching!

Jockley suddenly opened his eyes, the dream shattering instantly, replaced by a dimly lit room, a mottled ceiling, and the eternal blood moonlight outside the window.

He held his breath, his entire body tense.

There was no noticeable sound.

The tavern was poorly soundproofed; he could faintly hear Art and the priest breathing downstairs, but at this moment, besides these familiar sounds, there was something else.

A very slight friction sound came from the room, like cloth rubbing against a wooden floor, or like something soft moving slowly in the corridor.

Jockley slid silently off the bed, moving as lightly as a cat, keeping every joint to a minimum range of motion.

He stepped barefoot onto the floor, the coldness coming from the soles of his feet making him even more awake.

Jockley reached out to the headboard, and the familiar metallic feel of the gun as his fingers touched its cold barrel brought him a little peace of mind.

On the other side, Big Yellow also turned on its machine.

There was no sound, no light, but through neural connections, Jockley could sense that Yellow's consciousness instantly switched from standby mode to maximum alert.

The hydraulic system inside Big Yellow's mechanical joints began to pressurize, the weapon module entered a preheating state, and the optical sensor switched to low-light mode, scanning every corner of the room.

It also sensed that someone was approaching.

Jockley made a gesture, and Big Yellow indicated that he understood.

It silently unplugged the cable from the charging port, its mechanical feet gently landing on the floor without making a sound, and quietly moved to the door, its body pressed against the wall.

The gun barrel on his right arm had already popped out, and the energy blade on his left arm glowed with a purple light, ready to be unleashed. Big Yellow had entered battle mode.

Jockley moved to the other side of the door, leaned against the wall, pressed the rifle against his shoulder, and activated his superpowers.

As his brow burned, his vision broadened, and an image of the heat source in the hallway outside the door surfaced in his consciousness.

A humanoid heat source appeared; his body temperature was normal, his heart rate was slightly fast, he was not carrying any obviously high-temperature weapons, and he stopped at the door.

Jockley's heart began to race. To be able to bypass Art and the priest's vigilance and silently sneak up to the second floor, this was definitely not an ordinary person.

The man in red?

The thought washed over him like ice water; he hadn't expected the man in red to come knocking so quickly.

Jockley could only grip the rifle tightly, his finger on the trigger, and suppress his breathing to a minimum.

As the doorknob turned, the metal latch emitted an extremely faint clicking sound.

Jockley and Big Yellow exchanged a glance; without needing to say anything, they had already reached a tacit understanding.

As the door was pushed open, dim light seeped into the narrow corridor, and a figure squeezed in.

Without any hesitation, Jockley pulled the trigger. The laser bullet tore through the air with a sharp whistling sound, heading straight for the figure's chest.

But the other party reacted incredibly quickly; almost at the same moment that Jockley pulled the trigger, the figure suddenly crouched down.

The laser projectile grazed his head, struck the opposite wall, and burned a charred hole, from which wisps of smoke rose.

"Turn on the lights!" Jockley yelled.

"Snapped!"

Big Yellow pressed the switch, and the old light bulb on the ceiling flickered a few times before illuminating the room with a dim yellow light, instantly dispelling the darkness.

Everyone was stunned.

Daikiri was squatting on the ground, his eyes wide open. He was wearing a set of pajamas with exaggerated graffiti and his hair was messy.

He held a bowl of wontons in his left hand and a fairy tale picture book in his right. On the cover of the book, a rabbit wearing overalls was looking at Jockley with innocent big eyes.

A few seconds later, Jockley put down his gun, his voice trembling.

"What the hell are you doing in my room in the middle of the night instead of sleeping?!"

Daikiri slowly lowered his hands from his head and swallowed.

"Damn it, buddy, weren't you supposed to come back and tell me your story?"

Jockley put down the rifle in his hand and rubbed his face hard. What the hell was going on?

"Get the hell out of here!!!"

The sound was so loud that dust was falling from the ceiling, and a groggy shout came from downstairs.

"What's with all that noise, you little brat! Can't a person get any sleep?!"

Big Yellow had already silently put away its weapon, its optical sensor turned towards Chokri, and an emoticon popped up on the panel:

"[¬_¬]"

Jockley closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then another deep breath.

He decided to buy a new lock and replace it tomorrow.

Must buy.

There are no normal people around him.